


Breaking Him In

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and River at work and at play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Him In

The Doctor located River sitting at a gaming table with a pile of probably ill-gotten gains. He crossed the room, speeding up when the man she was sitting with laid a hand on hers and smiled in a rather suggestive manner. 

He slipped into the stool next to her and said, a bit louder than required, “Are you winning, Cupcake?”

The hand retreated and the smile disappeared. 

River didn't seem to mind. “It's mostly just luck, Sweetie.”

“Who's your friend?”

“This is Mr Bizial, he's the head of some terribly important company whose name escapes me at the moment.” Playing dumb, which meant her new friend was _that_ sort of man and therefore the Doctor didn't have to be very nice to him. That was good to know.

“Hello,” said the Doctor, deliberately not giving the man his full attention. A certain type of person just _hated_ when he did that. 

“I didn't realise you weren't alone, Dr Song,” said Mr Bizial, apparently disappointed. 

The Doctor decided to go for outright rudeness. “I'm sure you're fabulously wealthy and can have anyone else you set your sights on, don't worry.” He kissed River's shoulder. “I think it's time we went back to our room.”

“But I'm having such a lovely time,” said River. “And I'm not tired.”

“Neither am I.” 

River looked at him and smiled. She slipped off her stool gracefully and took his arm as he stood. “In that case...” She nodded at the people round the table, followed the Doctor when he tugged on her arm. 

“You do a surprisingly good impression of a jealous husband,” said River when they were out of earshot.

“Did I go too far?”

“If I didn't know better I'd be expecting a spanking.”

“River, you're a grown woman, why would I... oh.” He chased away a few traitorous thoughts and said “I don't do violence.”

“Unlike our friend at the table. He's well-connected to the government and probably responsible for more than a few disappearances among his business rivals.”

“So you _were_ working, then.”

“I spread plenty of rumours, a few of which came back to me as the evening went on.” She slipped her arm from his. “Did you really call me 'Cupcake'?” she asked.

“Isn't that what couples do? Call each other sweet things?”

River shook her head. “It doesn't suit you, don't do it again unless you have to.” They stopped in front of a lift. “Where are we going?”

“Our room,” he said, pressing the call button.

“And there I thought you were making empty promises to scare off another man.”

“Not for that,” he said, leaning in towards her. “We're meeting some of the rebels at sunrise.”

“Spoilsport.”

The lift arrived and he followed her into it. River looked up at the camera above the door and nudged him. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

“For the benefit of the viewers at home?” he asked, confused. 

“Because you made it very obvious what you were planning to do and failing to do it might look suspicious.” River drew herself up to her full height. “You have my permission to appear possessive.”

He moved in towards her awkwardly and stopped. “I don't really -”

River kissed him, pulling him back until he had her pressed against the wall of the lift. She moved his hands to her waist and kept her mouth on his until a loud _ping_ indicated that they'd arrived at their floor. 

River patted her hair. “Honestly, if you're going to talk the talk you have to expect to walk the walk as well.” She led the way down the corridor and opened the door to their room. 

He followed her in and switched the light on. “Do you think it's bugged?” he asked against her ear. 

“Almost certainly,” she whispered. More loudly she added “I was only flirting.”

The Doctor stared at her until he realised she was putting on a show. He nodded, and slipped the sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket. “He seemed quite keen on you, Biscuit.”

River winced and shook her head. _No biscuits_ , she mouthed. “I don't object to your fancy women.”

The Doctor managed not to giggle. He stood on a chair and fiddled with the light fitting. “What can I say, it's an appalling double-standard of mine.” A wisp of smoke came from the light and he grinned triumphantly at her. 

“And you haven't said a word about my dress. When was the last time you complimented my appearance?”

He jumped down from the chair. “You can stop now.”

“When _was_ the last time?” asked River.

The Doctor sat on the sofa and waved a hand. “I said your shoes were nice.”

“You said they looked dangerous, that's not remotely the same thing.”

“River, there's no need to have a fake domestic, they can't hear us any more.”

River opened the inner door and disappeared into the bedroom with a sniff. The Doctor stared after her. Was she actually upset? Was this another of those relationship things he was expected to understand? He stood up and followed her into the bedroom, found her taking off her jewellery in front of the mirror.

“Your dress is very...” he started and tailed off.

“Yes?” 

“It doesn't look very warm,” he said. Oh, that was terrible. That was truly pathetic. “I like the colour.”

River turned to face him. “Try again, Sweetie. Something about how _I_ look in this dress.”

“You look... tempting?”

River sighed. “Oh, good, at least when you completely fail to seduce me I'll know you thought about sex for half a second before something shiny distracted you.”

“I might seduce you,” he said, defensively. “I thought after we've brought down the government you might want me to kiss you. I can do that, that's not a problem for me.”

“And then?”

“And then I might... well, I don't want to ruin it by telling you in advance.”

River sat down on the edge of the slightly-too-large bed. “I can see I haven't broken you in, yet.”

“Broken me in?”

She smiled. “Believe it or not there comes a time when you can make me blush.” She leaned back and looked at him appraisingly. “How many times have you seen me since Egypt?”

“A few.” He tried to stop the blood flowing to his cheeks. “I thought it had been going well. You've certainly never complained.”

“All right,” said River, “I suppose we may as well begin your education.”

The Doctor looked at her warily. “What does that mean?” 

“It means, my love, that we're going to move on from the strictly vanilla.”

“We're going to eat ice-cream? Do you want me to call room service?” 

“Sit down,” said River, patting the space beside her on the bed. 

He sat down, then managed not to move away as she shifted closer. “I think I can see where this is going.”

River put her hand on his thigh. “Yes, I'm sure you can.”

“We do have a regime to topple,” said the Doctor, trying to get back to what he thought was the important topic. 

“And quite a few hours to kill until sunrise.” River smiled. “Let's talk about our relationship.”

“Oh, God, no,” said the Doctor automatically. 

River ignored him. “Specifically, the sex.”

The Doctor was torn between relief at not having to talk about his feelings and abject terror at what he was being expected to talk about instead. “Why do we have to talk about that? Don't you like it? I thought you liked it. You always seem happy enough when we...” he waved a hand to finish his sentence.

“I'd like it a lot more if you could actually say it.” He moved her hand further up his thigh. “I'd like to know what you're thinking.”

“Um,” said the Doctor.

“Because I'm thinking that I'd very much like to fuck you, but that I can probably handle going without if you're going to carry on pretending to be frigid.” She moved her hand over his groin. “So,” she said quietly, “tell me what you're thinking about.”

“River, I'm really not any good at this.”

“That's because you're out of practice.”

“I'm a Time Lord, I'm a complicated being. I'm thinking about all sorts of things that _aren't_ about how much I like that thing you're doing with your hand.”

“So you _are_ thinking about it.”

“How could I not be?” He was confused. Usually he didn't have to say anything in this sort of situation. Things just happened to him without there being any requirement to explain his thoughts in detail. “Why do I have to talk about it?”

River looked at him with a serious and, he thought, slightly sad expression. “It's nice to feel wanted. Desired. That sort of thing.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor. “This is a relationship issue, isn't it?”

River nodded, trailing her fingers back down towards his knee. “I don't expect you to write poetry, but a bit of emotional validation wouldn't go amiss.”

He slipped his hand over hers. “I could write poetry if you want me to. Does it have to rhyme?”

River shook her head. “I'm being ridiculous.”

“No, you're being perfectly reasonable. I'm not very good at relationships. I am, however, very good at _avoiding_ relationships. It says quite a lot that we're married.”

“Hmm,” said River, “but I was causing the destruction of the entire universe out of a selfish desire to avoid killing you.”

The Doctor shrugged. “I once had a boyfriend who killed people just to get my attention. This,” he said, gesturing between them, “is the healthiest relationship I've had in centuries.”

“Oh, Sweetie, you have such a way with words.”

“Yes,” said the Doctor, quite aware that she was being sarcastic. He laced his fingers between hers. “Do you need more validation or can I stop talking about my emotions? Because as you can see I'm completely rubbish at that.”

“How are you at barely-restrained lust?” asked River, leaning against him. 

He checked his watch. “We only have six hours.”

“Oh, now _that_ might just be the perfect sentence.”


End file.
